


stardust speakeasies

by glorious_clio



Category: Star Wars
Genre: AU, And snow, Do you like bootleggers? There are bootleggers in this, F/M, and russian princes in exile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: It's 1922, Anakin Skywalker is mayor of the hottest town north of Chicago, and Luke and Leia are struggling against his iron fist and far-reaching influence.  And then Leia meets a bootlegger she recklessly falls for.  Roll down your stockings and practice your Charleston for this AU that no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [stardust speakeasies playlist](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/231569) by glorious clio. 



Leia was 22 when she voted for the first time. It gave her a huge rush of pleasure to cast an actual ballot, one that would be counted and tallied and then... well. She hoped it would be enough to elect Bail Organa as Mayor of St. Paul, who promised to begin the legal battle to end Prohibition.

She had been a secret suffragette all through her tender youth (behind her father’s back) and had campaigned for Organa during his campaign (under Anakin Skywalker’s nose, using an assumed name). She was part of the rebellious youth, a loose alliance of young people who saw what corruption and organized crime that Prohibition was bringing to the country. It was exciting to go to illicit speakeasies, but it mostly benefited men like her father who had a drink in one hand and voted for the Volstead Act in the other.

Leia glowed all through her father’s soiree that night, given in honor of the election. She looked like a pretty star in her bright white dress covered in silver sequins, her hair was wrapped around her head in a beautiful braid. She was even being nice to his cronies, which was sure to make father happy. But as the numbers came in, Leia Skywalker grew increasingly disappointed. When they declared father the victor, she downed another glass of champagne as if it were a shot and went to the telephone in the kitchen.  

“Winter?”

“Yeah, we know the results already, Summer. Wanna go out and get smashed?”

“Oh god, yes.”

She went back out to her father’s party and found her twin. “I’m going out,” she whispered in Luke’s ear.  

He frowned. “Father might miss you.”

“I very much doubt it,” Leia said. “You’re here, dear brother, and besides, he’s drunk on more than his victory.”

Her brother cast an uneasy look over his sister and shrugged. “You know I won’t stop you.”

She kissed him on the cheek and snuck up to her room to get her warmest wrap. Novembers in Minnesota were a cold affair, and the sequins on her dress would do little to keep her warm. She stuck her dancing shoes in a little bag, pulled on her warm boots. After three more coats of mascara, she slipped down the back servant's stairs (as quietly as possible, so as not to incriminate the anxious housekeeper), and walked the block to Grand Avenue to catch the next streetcar.

After a few stops, Winnifred Organa got on and the two friends rode in silence to their favorite speakeasy. It was election night, and the Cantina seemed especially full. Dropping their things at the coat check, they first went to the bar and ordered some top-shelf booze.

“Top shelf, eh?” said a rather good looking fellow near Leia’s elbow. “Aren’t you two the princesses.”

Leia took a sip of the gin and tonic that was passed to her. “It’s advice from the Gospel according to Luke.”

Winter snorted.  

“The Bible?” he asked. His brow was furrowed, as if trying to remember any chapter or verse from Luke, let alone ones about ordering the best booze in a speakeasy. He really was very handsome, in a rugged sort of way. He wore some kind of military trousers with yellow stripes down the sides, a clean but rather worn white shirt, but with a button up vest and a gold pocket-watch chain shining in the low light of the Cantina.

“No, my brother.”

“Is he running the joint?” The man narrowed his eyes.

“Not at all,” she grinned. “He’s a prohi.”  She and Winter clinked glasses to toast him.

The man tilted his head back and laughed.  Winter leaned over and whispered _happy hunting_ before leaving Leia to flirt.  

His face relaxed into another handsome smile. “What’s your name, princess?”

She smiled and said, “Summer.”

He frowned. “Your real name, baby.”

“What’s yours?” she redirected.

“It’s Han.” He leaned closer, and she got a whiff of his cologne. It was pleasant and woodsy, but underneath she thought she could smell motor oil. “You know, I think I know a prohibition agent named Luke. You-”

“Stop,” she said, her smile gone. “It’s _Summer_ ,” she insisted.

He sized her up- all five feet, two inches of her. “Okay. Princess Summer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Han, huh?”

“Han _Solo_.” He preened a little bit.  

Leia hesitated, not knowing his name or reputation. She lifted an eyebrow and smirked at his ego. “Should that name mean something to me?”

He sputtered for a moment. “What? ‘Course it should! My partner and I made the drive from Canada in seven hours! In the snow!”

“Ah, a smuggler,” she said with delight. Leia licked her lips.

“Listen, sister. You can thank me for that top shelf gin you’re drinking.”

“Very well, thank you, Mr. Solo. Or should I refer to you by your military rank? Private?”

“Captain,” he admitted.  

She leaned closer. “Well, Captain. I’m not _your_ sister.”  She kissed his cheek, soft as a promise. Leaning back on her stool she finished her drink, playfully rolled down her stockings, and went out to the dance floor.

Sure as anything, he followed.

Perfect.

 

 

 

The next thing she knew, she was in famous Captain Han Solo’s famous auto ( _I call her the_ Falcon), getting him to shut up the old fashioned way when Winter tapped on the window.  

“Taxi’s here,” Winter called.

“I can take you home,” Han offered. His eyes were bright and his lips were stained with her lipstick.

She kissed him again. “Not a chance, hotshot.”

He grinned. “Come here often, Princess?”

“Don’t you know you’re supposed to open with that line?” she said, pulling on her wrap.

“I need to know when I’m going to see you again.”

She opened the door. “Patience is a virtue, Captain.”  

She and Winter blew him kisses as the taxi drove away, closing the window against the cold only when he was out of sight.

“So how was he?”

Leia smiled. “He was a good kisser.”

“Is that all?” teased Winter.

Leia laughed. They made quite a pair, Summer and Winter. At school, they had often shocked the nuns with borderline rude words, and this kind of outrageous behavior had forever linked the young women. Winter had been appalled at the lack of freedom Leia suffered, and had stolen her away as often as possible. Both were interested in history and law, and Leia adored Winter’s parents, Bail and Breha. And the Organas didn’t mind unchaperoned young ladies in speakeasies. They were very... well, anarchist, for all that Bail had tried to oust father politically.

“And who did you find to dance with tonight, Miss Winter?”

“Oh, you know,” she waved her hand carelessly. “I’m a loyal Minnesotan! Give me Mr. Schmidt every time.”

Leia laughed. “You always did have terrible taste in beer!”

“You’re such a brat, Summer! I should warn Han.”

The taxi dropped her off on Grand Avenue and Leia retraced her steps to the Summit Avenue mansion that father purchased before she and Luke were born, when he was a rising young star in politics, her mother a glimmer on his arm with aspirations of her own.  

But it was a dark and unhappy house. The stone exterior was coarse and bare; even the toughest ivy couldn’t be tempted into growing over it. Underneath a blanket of snow were bushes of thorns, roses never taking to the soil. Inside the corridors were drafty, floors creaked, spiders spun webs in high corners.  Maids couldn’t be convinced to stay more than a few months at a time. Rooms were decorated in an ugly, cluttered sort of way; many were so dark and curtained off it felt as if they had never seen the sun.

And it was haunted by memories of the twins’ mother. Mother was cut off from her friends and her goals the moment father slid the wedding band on her finger. Gone were her suffragette meetings, sewing circles, study clubs, or anything that wasn’t Mass on Sunday. Father only paid attention to her until she gave him a son. Then she was ignored, silenced at dinner, banished from everything in his life, including his bedroom. After six years of this, she was sent away to an institution to cure her “hysteria” only to die of tuberculosis in the wards. Until her last day, she was resolutely kind to her daughter, and Leia often thought of Mother as a sort of guardian angel.

Father was now trying to rule Leia’s life with an iron fist, trying to marry her off for a political alliance. Leia had been caught sneaking out a few times (and had the marks to show for it). But she couldn’t let this tyrant control her every move.

Escaping to university had been out of the question. Luke had gotten the lion’s share of father’s attention, love, support. He had shared what he could with her; for her part she had never resented her brother. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have been born at all. No one had expected twins.  

Leia snuck in. Father was snoring deeply, and Luke appeared to be staying in his old room. She crept down the hall, pulled on her woollen nightgown, and fell into sleep.

 

* * *

 

The alarm went off way too early, but Leia knew she’d be expected at breakfast. She was braiding her hair when Luke knocked on her door. She knew it was him - father didn’t visit her room unless she was being punished for some infraction, and then he didn’t knock.

“Come in!”

“Morning,” Luke greeted. He shut the door behind him. “Father’s downstairs already.”

“I’m thinking of bobbing my hair, what do you think?” Leia pouted into the mirror.

“I think it would be a good way to piss off father,” Luke said. “So where did you go last night?” he asked.

“It depends, am I talking to my brother, or to my friendly neighborhood prohibition agent?” She wrapped her arm around his.

“Come on, Leia, you should know me better than that.” He bumped his shoulder into her to make her smile.

She did know him better than that. He was with the Department of Justice, and though he was technically supposed to weed out illicit alcohol, he felt that corruption was the bigger issue. Luckily, his partner Ben Kenobi agreed with Luke. Luke could have had a major hand in his father’s network, he had bowed to his wishes. Luke might talk sweet, but Leia knew he had a strong moral compass and a backbone of steel; father could not induce Luke to go into the family business.

“I was at the Cantina,” Leia whispered.

“Good. The Hut was raided last night.”

“They didn’t need you?”

Luke shrugged.  “It was the Police who did it. Jabba wasn’t paying out.”

Ah, the blessed O’Connor system struck again. Started by the police chief, John O’Connor, was enthusiastically carried out by his predecessor, Dan Hogan. The idea being that any bootlegger or gangster could safely hide in the city of St. Paul, provided they paid handsomely and promised to commit their crimes outside the city’s limits.  

Which meant that across the river, Minneapolis’ crime was on the rise.

This is what Luke and Leia were trying to fight: the rising corruption, the rise in crime, the rise in gangsters. The Twin Cities were safer when alcohol had been legal.

The trouble was, Father was making a major profit, and that it was under the table meant it wasn’t subject to income tax.

“Well thanks for the tip. Thankfully I don’t frequent the Hut.”

They made their way to the dining room together.

“Leia. Late to breakfast again, I see,” his voice was gravely with his hangover.

“It was my fault, father,” Luke said quickly.  

“Your paper, Mr. Skywalker,” Arvid said as Leia sat down. She looked up as their long-term butler redirected father’s attention.  

“Hmmm,” he said, and disappeared behind the _St. Paul Pioneer_.

“Thank you,” Leia mouthed at Arvid.

Arvid and his wife Thora had been with the family, well, since before the twins were born. They had actually worked for Mother’s family and she had stolen them away from the Amidalas when she married. Father didn’t bother with them, and they were both definitely on Leia’s side. “You remind us of your Mother,” Thora would say, sadly.  Thora was the housekeeper, and she had to do a good deal of cooking, given that she couldn’t get anyone to stay on. In many ways, Arvid and Thora had raised her.

Breakfast otherwise proceeded normally. Leia kept quiet as father asked Luke all sorts of questions about his work, which Luke answered very carefully. Luke was eager to maintain their relationship without resorting to playing a game of cops and robbers.

Leia added an extra spoonful of sugar to her tea.

Breakfast was delicious. They were between cooks again, and though Thora’s primary job seemed to be worrying, she also made a perfect batch of muffins. Eventually, Luke and father had to leave for work. Luke kissed Leia on the cheek as he left and father gave her a vague headnod before leaving.  

Leia breathed a sigh of relief. She backtracked through the house and retreated to father’s office.  

“Alone at last, Mistress Leia?” Thora said, peeking into the library.  

“Yes. Isn’t it heavenly?” She dragged her fingers along the spines of Anakin Skywalker’s law books. Bail was coaching her for the bar exam, which was not exempt to women. She still had a long way to go.

“Do you have a hangover, dear? Shall I get a cold pack?”

Leia looked up and grinned. “No, I only had one last night, Thora. Thank you. Do you need help cleaning up after father’s party?”

Thora was tall and slender, a little angular even. She had bright brown eyes and long gold hair that was getting more and more silver in her later years. She was neat and prim and shining all the time, for all that she couldn’t keep up with a giant mansion. And she never let Leia scrub a floor, though she offered often.

“No, dear, I can handle one room. I’ll leave you to your studies then. Lunch is at noon, Fika is at four, and your father will be home at 6:30 for dinner.”

“Yes, I know. Same as every day.”

Thora nodded, and left the room to make herself useful somewhere else.  

The days blended together for Leia, with only Arvid and Thora for company. She loved them of course, and Fika -- their Swedish coffee breaks -- were always lovely and cozy. But she itched at being in the house. Winter had a job and a life, Leia had her law books and her nights.

Once or twice a week, she’d go to Bail’s law practice. He would help direct her studies, talk to her about important cases. Sometimes she would remain in his office during client interviews, quietly taking notes in the corner. His clients were people who could never have afford her father’s services, even if he had been practicing.

 

 

 

A new layer of snow was on the sidewalks the next morning as Luke swung out of his father’s house and walked to the streetcars. Father had offered to give him a lift, but Luke preferred the streetcars if he couldn’t drive himself.

Besides, the view from the streetcars looked like it should be on a greeting card. The morning was bright, and new snow caught prettily on tree branches and garden walls. Kids with rosy cheeks were all bundled up and trudging through the snowdrifts, dragging their feet at the thought of a week full of sums and readings and being trapped in a schoolroom. Luke felt for them. He read the paper on the ride downtown, noting the local and national crime rates.  

With a sigh, he closed his paper at his stop, scrambling out of the streetcar and making his way to the over-the-top federal building. It looked like a castle, truly, it did. A few presidents had scrambled out of a certain window to a ledge in order to address a crowd. That was some time ago now. Luke hadn’t even been born yet.  

It was still the post office, and the courts were upstairs, lovely with high ceilings and gleaming woodwork. Luke wiped his feet at the door and walked up all the stairs to the fourth floor and into the tiny office that the Bureau of Justice had been awarded.  

“Welcome to another day, young master Skywalker,” greeted Ben Kenobi.  

Ben was a weird old man, it was true, wizened and white haired with an old fashioned way of talking. His appearance was kind of misleading, because no one was faster in a firefight, no one had a sharper mind. Luke was often simply trying to keep up with his older partner.  

“Thanks, Ben. Good night?”

“Hmmm. It was fine, I guess. Tried to work out some of Jabba’s business dealings with the city.”  Ben looked thoughtful as he stroked his beard.

“Sounds brave.”

“Yes, but not as brave as a choice you may someday be forced to make.”

Luke stilled. “If you are going to charge my father, may I suggest you find enough evidence without my testimony?”

“Anakin Skywalker knows how to cover his tracks, and frankly, your refusal to testify against him casts a shadow on your reputation as an officer of this Bureau. Especially if you truly wish to root out corruption in Minnesota.”

Luke sat down heavily at his desk and opened a file. “Not now, Ben, okay?”

“Very well, Luke. But you must think about this very seriously.”  

He gritted his teeth. He didn’t see how he could prosecute his own father. It would kill him. It would kill their relationship.


	2. Chapter 2

Father was still mayor, and nothing changed at first. Leia wrote letters to senators and congressmen, arguing for the repeal of prohibition. She pointed to the rise of organized crime. She pointed to poisons in liquor that were killing citizens. Under various _noms de plume_ , she wrote to opinion sections of the local papers, only to be discouraged when other ‘concerned’ citizens wrote that they didn’t care about people being poisoned by alcohol they were stupid enough to drink.

The holidays passed in a grim blur. With all the Christmas cheer, Leia was hardly able to sneak out. Just after the new year, her father secretly built a tunnel from the Mississippi River through the bluffs up to the capitol building so as to more efficiently smuggle alcohol and violate the Mann Act.  

She stole what plans she dared and brought them to Bail Organa.

That night she went out dancing with Winter and she ran into Han Solo.  

Again.  

It was an infatuation between the two of them, but she had to keep her distance. She liked him, she really did. It had been two months and lots of turns around the dance floor. They drank from the top shelf together, then retired for some heavy petting in the _Falcon_.  

She ached for him, but she couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t like she could openly date him. He didn’t even know her real name, or if he did, he still called her Princess.

She had met his partner, though. He was a bear of a man, tall and strong.

“Меня зовут Чуи,” he had said, shaking her hand.

“Um?”

Han laughed.  “He said his name is Chewie. Really it’s Charles. He’s a white Russian Boyar, fled from the Soviets. Don’t let him fool you, he understands English, but he’s embarrassed by his accent. His French is better, but he likes to be mysterious for the ladies.”

Chewie grinned at her and said, “Oчень приатна.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she guessed, and he kissed her hand.

She turned to Han. “You speak Russian?”

“Чут-чут,” he admitted. He fluttered his hand.   

Leia laughed and ordered a round of vodka for everyone. Top shelf for the Princess and her court.

As it happened, Han’s Russian was mostly kitchen Russian, a few folk songs he’d picked up, and a lot of obscenities. Leia enjoyed pulling them out of him during that night’s petting session in the _Falcon_.

“I like that,” she said, mussing his hair back. She was straddling his lap, her dress hiked up around her hips. Her lipstick was smeared beyond hope, her hairpins were falling out.

“You wouldn’t if you knew what I was saying,” he said, kissing her collarbones.

“It’s sexy,” she insisted. Arguing for the sake of it, but without any heat behind it.

She let her head drop back, giving him more access to her neck. His hands were warm on the small of her back, his callouses snagged the beading on her dress.  

“Come home with me,” he said, kissing his way up to her ear.  

She wanted to, oh, she wanted to go home with him so badly. She was drunk on love, on the liquor they drank, and she wanted to fly away from her father’s house.

But she was afraid.  

She was scared at how well connected her father was, at how far his network spread, that there might be nowhere in the country that she could flee. And what if Han only wanted her for now, not for forever? What would she do then? With no education? She only knew the life she had lived, and it hadn’t given her many more opportunities than planning menus and holding her liquor. She felt well and truly trapped.

She stilled, unable to meet his eyes. Instead of answering, she said, “Let’s go look at the stars.”

So they held hands, freezing to death in the snowy parking lot, and raced to see who could name the most constellations.

When Winter came outside to collect her, to remind her of reality, she said “Han, I-”

“I know,” he said, then kissed her swiftly, but hard. His lips were like ice. It almost hurt. “I know,” he said once more and then pulled away, back inside the speakeasy to wait for her return.  

“Leia,” Winter said quietly on their way home that night. “You know my parents will help you. You’re past the age of majority, you can leave your father’s house.”

They almost never used real names. This was a serious offer, her second of the night.

“No matter where I go, his cronies will be able to get to me,” Leia said. Her father’s spiderweb of nasty men with big guns held her fast. “And even if I did escape? I can’t be Han Solo’s moll forever.”

Winter squeezed her friend’s hand, and Leia wanted so much to believe that everything would be alright.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

 

 

 

Leia woke to a soft dusting of snow and shivered. The Cathedral would be freezing and father would insist on staying for confession. He didn’t really confess to anything, that conversation was a business arrangement. Church and State might be separate in other cities, but not here in St. Paul. Not in 1923. She shivered through Mass, was frigid during her own confession (it was so much easier to confess to Winter).

Luke worked his prodigal son magic and after Mass, Leia was allowed to spend the rest of the day with him. And he was given the keys to the auto.  

The twins indulged in a hearty lunch at the Commodore, a beautiful art-deco speakeasy where Leia treated herself to a perfect cup of the spiked coffee. Then it was time for the real adventure. Luke took her to a small copse in the suburbs that the prohibition agents used when they needed target practice.  Luke lent her a pair of coveralls and some boots that were a few sizes too big, but better than the dainty shoes she wore to church.

It wasn’t that Leia was particularly violent. She just wanted to learn to shoot, and  it was wonderful to let off steam from living in a Miss Havisham-style nightmare.  

“You’re getting better, Leia,” Luke complimented her. And she was.  

As much as today was about shooting a target, she also learned the essentials of cleaning her weapon.

“What do you know about Captain Han Solo?” she asked him, polishing the barrel of the handgun she had been using. They were back at Luke’s little apartment, dragging out the minutes.

“He drives an old beat up Correllian Millennium.”

She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. I’m sure you have a file on him, Luke.”

Luke smiled sadly at his sister. “Is it worth telling you not to get mixed up with bootleggers?”

She shrugged. “I’ve already been preached to today, thank you.”

Luke offered her a reconciliatory smile. “Well, he’s not a bad man, for all that he’s breaking the law. Not associated with father’s network. Not especially violent, though rumor has it he took care of one of Jabba’s thugs.”

Leia frowned.  “Proof?”

Luke shook his head. “Nothing that would stick. All circumstantial, your honor.”

She grinned at that. “Well, I like him.”

“Oh?”

Leia didn’t blush often, but she could feel the tell-tale warmth in her cheeks.  

“I like his partner, Chewie,” Luke allowed, changing the subject.

“I do too. He kinda looks like King George V,” Leia said, putting her cleaning rag away.

Luke laughed. “Rumor has it he’s a Romanov, so he’s probably related to old George, too.”

“You rely on rumors an awful lot,” Leia said. She leaned back in the chair and wiped her hands off on the coveralls.  

“Part of the job description,” Luke reminded her. He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, Leia, it’s almost time for dinner.”

She sighed.  “Yeah. Time flies when you’re having fun.”

She took off the coveralls, washed her hands, and put her nice shoes on again. Luke returned his guns in his locker and helped her with her coat. They rode in silence through the seven hills of St. Paul back to the mansion. Leia tried not to shiver.

Arvid took her wraps when they arrived, and she was barely in the door when suddenly she was ambushed by father.

“Leia, you haven’t been in my office, have you?” he demanded. His gravely voice was dangerous, his features were black with rage.

“Why no, father,” Leia lied quickly.

Luke grasped her arm. “I was in there for your fountain pen,” Luke said. “I had to sign for a telegraph.”

“I have papers missing,” he said, still glaring at Leia.  

 _Shit_.

“Father, the only reading I do is helping Thora with the menus for your parties.”

Leia kept calm, her face was blank.   _Believe me_ , Leia thought hard, and after a moment her father’s shoulders relaxed marginally.

“I’m sure your papers will turn up, father,” Luke said, rather casually. He gently escorted Leia into the dining room, and father stalked after them.  

Luke stayed that night, and Leia was grateful.  

 

 

 

 

“Вы хотите остаться?” Chewie asked. They were taking inventory of the booze they were about to smuggle back to St. Paul, disguised in various bottles and decanters that looked like ordinary snakeoil any traveling salesmen might peddle.

Except for Leia’s favorite gin. That, Han had insisted be bottled in pretty colored perfume bottles. They looked like gems in their crate. He smiled at them before glancing up at Chewie.

“Would that be so bad? Staying?” Han replied. They didn’t normally stay in the same cities for very long. Usually only long enough for a couple of trips. St. Paul had always been a stopping point, sure, but there were bigger fortunes to be made farther away from the borders.  

Not that either of them were afraid of the cold. Chewie was from Russia, even visited Siberia on occasion. Han was from Minnesota, born who knew where, raised in a state orphanage. A grim life compared to his princely companion. Orphanages meant back-breaking work in the summer, freezing dormitories in the winters, and never enough food to go around. He had escaped as soon as he could, to pursue the bad end that he had been cursed with when he was left on the doorstep of the institution.

“Лето? Вы любите ее?”

“Summer? Love?!” Han laughed nervously. He tried to lean casually against the _Falcon_ but slid down the cool metal body.

Chewie leveled him with a stare, piercing and knowing.

"K чёрту,” Han swore, and then said, “I don’t know. I’ve only known her a few weeks!” Yet he had never devoted himself to a woman more than one or two days before, and they both knew it.

Chewie laughed at him. Han figured he probably deserved it.

“Well, do you want to stay?” Han asked. Fair was fair, and if his partner was starting to get itchy feet....

“Шо,” Chewie agreed with a shrug. After all, St. Paul was practically safety if you greased the correct palms.

Han breathed a sigh of relief.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change!

March had arrived and spring was on its heels when father went out of town for a “conference.” He had brought Arvid with to drive him and attend to his every whim. Thora, against father’s orders, had gone to visit her sister. Leia was quite unchaperoned. For two whole weeks.  

She studied hard during the day, when she wasn’t over at Bail Organa’s law firm.

“Were you able to use those plans I got to you?” Leia asked one day.  

“Yes, actually. We might be able to actually build a case against him.” Bail leaned back in his wooden chair. His office was nothing elaborate, but all the chairs were comfortable.

“Is there any chance you can make copies of them and return them to me?” Leia asked.

“Why do you need them back?”

“Father has missed them. I... he can’t suspect me,” Leia said. “Or I won’t be able to help you any more.”

“I’m afraid we need the originals. And you needn’t feel you have to stay with him, just to help us,” Bail said kindly.

“Winter has confided in you, I see,” she said, coolly.

“You’re like my own daughter, Leia,” he said.

“Thank you, sir.”

“None of that. You worked so hard on my campaign, my dear. And you and Winnie have been friends for so long. Can you at least come over for dinner tonight?”  

She loved dinner with the Organas. Mrs. Organa, that is, Breha, was kind and sharp. The four of them debated politics, civil rights, their own ‘rebel alliance,’ jazz music, and opinions in the paper. It was what Leia liked to think college might be like. They always gave her something to think about.  

Bail didn’t repeat his offer, but she could feel it in the air. Breha’s every gesture was one of welcome. Leia felt warm, but knew that her father would find her, and she could not imagine the retribution she would face, and maybe the Organas too.

That night, she and Winter went to the Cantina. Han was supposed to be home from a business trip of his own and they had loose plans to meet. For her part, Winter had a new girlfriend, a tiny woman called Marion but preferred to be known has Maz. Leia liked Maz, she was funny and smart, and she made Winter happy.  

It was a beautiful night, though freezing; even though March days might sometimes practice for Spring, it could not be trusted. The stars were brighter than Leia had remembered seeing them, and maybe it was this cold starlight that made her braver. She let Captain Solo drive her home. Never before had she allowed anyone to go to her house, other than sneaking Winter in a few times. But Winter had ducked out early with Maz, and Leia declared it too cold to wait for a streetcar.  

So after a heavy petting session in the _Falcon_ , Leia gave Han directions back to the house she lived in. He pulled up to the curb with a whistle.  

“Wow, you really are a princess.”

“Please,” she said quietly, embarrassed by the large, ugly house where she was so unhappy. “Please, it’s Leia.”

“Leia.” He smiled when he said her name. It felt safe, she felt safe when he said it. It felt warmer than when he called her Summer. An antidote to the poison in father’s voice when he raged at her.

“Leia,” Han said again and pulled her into his arms.  

Oh, but this was dangerous. She kissed him back with reckless abandon, not caring. He slid a hand up her thigh and under her skirt and she buried her head in his neck as he kissed her hair.

“Say it again,” she ordered.  

“Leia,” he obliged.  

She pulled back and smiled at him, resting her hands on this chest, toying with the buttons on his heavy coat. “Han,” she said, and then, “I should go inside.”

He brought up a hand and gently cupped her cheek. “Leia, what are you afraid of?”

“Don’t ask me that,” she said sharply.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Sorry.”

She kissed him again, sweetly and lightly. “All is forgiven.”

She didn’t want him to leave. And then she remembered, he didn’t _have_ to. Her breath caught on that thought.

“What’s wrong?”  

Another smile blossomed on her face. “Nothing. Would you, er. Would you like to come inside? For a nightcap?”

“Inside?” he asked, puzzled.  

“My father. Is gone for another week and a half.”

“Oh,” said Han.

She kissed him, and rather daringly, let her hand drift down to the button of his trousers.  

“ _Oh_ ,” he said again.  

“Come inside, Han,” she said. “With me.”

In a hurried rush, they parked his car in the carriage house and she opened up the back door. She led him through the gloom.

“I’ve never seen a Summit Avenue mansion before,” Han drawled, taking off his wet winter boots.

“You still haven’t, this one isn’t pretty, or a place people should live,” she said, slipping out of her own shoes. As soon as their coats were off, she was pulling him up the back servants’ stairs up to her room.  

She turned the gas on low, a little light was welcome, but too much was, well, too much.  

“Wait here,” she said with a kiss.

She hurried to her mother’s bedroom, the only room in the house that was safe from her father. Leia had hidden many many treasures in little nooks and crannies around the room, but only one thing interested her now, the diaphragm that Winter had purchased for her over two years ago. She hadn’t yet had a chance to use it (other than practice), but it seemed better to be prepared.  It had a simple little case, and Leia had hidden it among her mother’s potions and powders, where it blended in well enough.

She boldly walked through the corridor and into her bedroom.  

“Welcome back,” Han said, taking her in his arms.

“Mmm,” she agreed, kissing him.  

“Leia?”

“Shut up and keep kissing me,” she said.  

Reluctantly, he pulled back and she opened her eyes.

“What’s going to happen here? What do you want to happen here?”

“Well, I was rather hoping you’d make love to me, but if you don’t want to, I am sure I can dig up a deck of the devil’s own playing cards for a game of Five Hundred?”

He cupped her cheek in his hand and she kissed his thumb.

“Yeah, that part was obvious, but why did you change your mind.”

She gazed at him, her brow furrowed. “I... I don’t want to miss this chance,” she said finally.

“You’re sure? Only you’re trembling.”

“I’m not trembling,” Leia insisted.

“Yes you are, sweetheart, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“With _excitement_ ,” she said firmly, and kissed him again.  

He took his time, kissing and kissing, gently touching her through her dress, not hurrying, and Leia stopped shaking. She grew bolder, unbuttoning his shirt, unbuckling his belt. And then she grew impatient, and he laughed, picked her up, and carried her to bed.  

He was still gentle, and a little bit awkward as she fitted in the diaphragm, but she was eager, and after a bit of effort on both their parts, she collapsed in a heap on top of him, a blinding pleasure coursing through her nerves like electricity.  

“How was that?” Han asked, a little out of breath.  

She couldn’t hear him properly, the blood was still rushing through her ears. But she planted a kiss on his chest.  “When can we do that again?”

Han laughed.  

 

* * *

 

“So you must be the worst bootlegger in existence,” Leia said conversationally, smoothing out the _Pioneer_ she had been reading.

“What makes you say that?” he sputtered, tinkering with some sort of component from the _Falcon_.

“I’ve never heard of you,” she said. “And besides, it’s been three days, you haven’t so much have phoned Chewie. You look ridiculous in that robe, by the way.”

He scowled a bit. Luke’s robe too small on him, a truth like that could not be denied.

“I _should_ go home though,” he said after a second. “Get a change of clothes, at least.”

She scooted over him and draped herself over his lap. “But you’re coming back, right?”

“Of course. We’re going out tonight, Princess.”

She grinned.

“And for the record, do you really want a bootlegger with a reputation? Isn’t it better if I fly below people’s notice? It makes my work easier.”

“I suppose,” she allowed.

“And what do you want to be when you grow up?” he said, gently pulling his fingers through her long hair. “Safe-cracker? Sharpshooter? Getaway driver?”

“Nah,” she said. She then dropped her voice. It was still a secret in this house, but she wanted him to know. “I’m actually reading the law. I’m hoping to pass the Bar in the next year."

“Wow,” said Han, kissing her cheek. “I knew you were smart, but this is incredible.”

She blushed. “If you’re going to go, go, so I can get ready for tonight.”

“You need eight hours to get ready?”

“Well, I thought I’d invite Winter over, and maybe Maz.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll throw on my clothes and get out of your very long pretty hair.”

 

* * *

 

Funny that his last words to her were about her hair.  She was watching herself in the mirror- it was almost like looking at a stranger. She rested her hand on her neck and then ran it up over her head, pushing the short locks in every direction.

“It looks good, Summer. Really good,” Maz said. This was her handiwork, and she was proud of it. “Although I wish you’d let me bleach it blonde.”

“No thanks,” Leia said. “I have a twin, but I don’t want to look like him.”

Maz laughed merrily.

“Are you sure your father won’t kill you?” Winter said, a little worried, tugging lightly on her own short white blonde locks.

“We haven’t discussed it,” Leia said lightly.  

Winter rolled her eyes.  

All three of them heard the _Falcon_ roll up, and Winter rushed down to get the door.  

“Can I come up?” Han called.

“No!” Maz shouted back before Leia could. “The holy of holies is for women only! The ritual must be completed!”

“Ritual?” He yelled, a note of confusion in his voice.  

Leia snickered. Leaning forward to the mirror she put on one more coat of mascara. She pouted her lips, exaggerating the cupid’s bow.  

“Ready to knock ‘em dead?” Maz whispered conspiratorially.  

“You bet,” Leia said. “With this manicure, he’ll be playing a harp before he knows it!”

Maz laughed and followed Leia down the grand staircase.  She tried not to rush, tried to savor the descent, reveling in the plushness of the carpet, the banister that she and Luke had worn smooth in their childhood. Ignoring the cobwebs and shadowy corners, she watched Han’s face.

He was speechless.

“Like it?” she winked.  

“I love it,” he said, sounding like the wind had been knocked out of him.

She had left her hair straight, and her new bob framed her face perfectly. Maz was a witch with a pair of scissors. The draft in the house was cold on her neck, but she had chosen this. The chill felt like freedom. Leia hadn’t realized how heavy her long hair was, how much it weighed her down.  

She kissed him quickly.  “Me too,” she said. “Now... out?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, giving himself a little shake.  “Better hurry. Chewie’s keeping the _Falcon_ warm...”

The four of them rushed out into the frosty evening. The three ladies crowded into the back, Han seemed content to let Chewie to drive.

After a few wrong turns, Leia called up, “Where are you taking us?”

Han turned around.  “Rondo. Little dive called Cloud City. A buddy of mine runs it- have you ever heard of Lando Calrissian?”

The three gave little shakes of their heads. None of them had ever been to a speakeasy in that part of town. Rondo was a community made up predominantly of black people.  

“Shame. He’s a good man, Lando. Leader in his community. Sings in the damn- I mean _blessed_ \- church choir. Anyway, I owe him a few favors, and I thought a little surprise delivery of some top shelf stuff would help.”

“Are you sure we’ll be welcome?” Winter asked carefully.  

Han shot her a shrewd look. “Sure, you’re with me. Anyway, if there’s any tension, we’ll make a graceful exit. But Cloud City is billed as a black and tan, and with better music than Harlem.”

“I’ll believe it when I hear it,” Maz teased.  

“Live music is always superior to records,” Winter said.

“And how,” Han said with a wink. He then looked at Leia, who hadn’t said anything. “You alright, princess?”

“Yes.” She was. She trusted him. And she wanted to meet this man that Han held in such high esteem. But she knew the Canteen was safe. She hadn’t had the opportunity to vet Cloud City with Luke. It scared her a bit. Winter squeezed Leia’s hand protectively and Leia smiled at Han who gave her a crooked grin in return.  

It didn’t take long to get there, for all that Rondo seemed like another world entirely. Han took Leia’s arm and Chewie escorted Maz and Winter down the steps and through a maze of corridors, and after the correct code word to the bouncer outside, into the speakeasy proper.  

“Well well well,” said a tall man, standing up. The club was pretty quiet, but then, it was Wednesday.  “Han Solo, and his buddy Prince Charles.”

“Hiya, Lando,” Han said sheepishly.  

Leia glanced up at Han’s face, her eyebrows furrowed.

“There’s a delivery in the _Falcon_ ,” Han tried. “I’m sure you’ll know how to find it?”

Lando rolled his eyes and laughed, the boom of it echoed around his Cloud City.  “I should say so, as I made those modifications specially for me.”  He glanced at Leia, Winter, and Maz.  “And who are these beautiful stars?”

He came closer and like Chewie had once done, kissed Leia’s hand. He was quite handsome, with his flashing dark eyes, his black hair in tight curls, and a mustache.

“Summer,” she replied. “And these are my friends, Winter and Maz.”

“Welcome, ladies. If you like, there’s a private room, where I’m sure the six of us will be more comfortable?”

He showed them to the back room and set them up with drinks before pulling on a long, beautiful cloak. Han and Chewie then went out to the _Falcon_ to fetch the shipment they had brought.  

“I’ve never been _invited_ to a backroom before,” Maz said quietly, swirling her drink.

“Me neither,” Leia said, fidgeting with her wrap. She’d taken it off, but it was sitting next to her on the seat, and she suddenly wasn’t thirsty.  

“It’s weird,” Winter agreed. “The only time I spend in backrooms has been with.... Never mind.”

Maz winked at her and Winter flushed.  

“Anyway,” Leia said. She looked around at the bright room. She thought backrooms were for shady deals, but this felt like the brightest winter day, the electric light shone off white and silver furnishings. It wasn’t art deco as much as it felt like what being in a cloud might actually be like. Smooth and soft and impossibly clean. The bar outside was the same.

It wasn’t long before Han, Chewie, and Lando returned, and the six fell into conversation together, dredging up old stories for a new audience. Maz kept lighting cigarettes for Winter, and it wasn’t long before the two of them decided to get a taxi to Maz’s boarding house. For his part, Chewie went out front to dance the Charleston with whoever wanted to.  

Leia, still not comfortable, still not drinking, curled into Han’s side.  

Lando smiled at her, kindly. His eyes twinkled and Leia wondered how many girls had fallen for this man. He was uncommonly charming, but she couldn’t let her guard down too much.  

“You really are beautiful, Summer. An angel.”

She nodded at the compliment.

“And not just a beauty,” Han praised her. “Smarts too.”

“Then what she’s doing with you?” Lando laughed.

Leia offered a brief smile. “I’m actually reading the law.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

“Not really,” Leia said, warming slightly. “I have to pass the bar, before I can do anything about it.”

“And then what are you going to do?”

She shrugged. “Fight for the less fortunate. Fight for more rights for women. Fight to legalize alcohol again.”

Lando laughed, delighted.

“She’s gonna put me right out of business,” Han teased, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, you’ll have to find a more respectable profession.” Leia smiled up at him.

“Maybe I’ll go back into the army,” he joked. “Or go into politics. You’d vote for me, right sweetheart?”

“Hmmm, you’re lucky women have the vote now. Universal suffrage is the only way you could get elected.”

“Yeah, they’ll fall over themselves to vote for this smile!”

Lando took a sip of his drink (whiskey, neat), and the glass clicked as he set it back on the white table. It called them back to the conversation, which was supposed to include Lando. Despite the jokes that Han and Leia traded so easily, his expression was tight. Leia felt uncomfortable again.

“Spoken like a true white girl. Universal Suffrage hasn’t made it’s way to everyone, especially black communities.”

Leia swallowed hard. For the first time, she took a sip of the cocktail in front of her, but the ice had melted and watered the sharpness of the alcohol down. She knew that while legally Lando had the right to vote in Minnesota, there were intimidation tactics that repressed the civil liberty. And it was worse elsewhere.

“Well, then I’ll have to fight for those rights, too,” she said quietly.  “I’m sorry, I meant no offense.”

“Just remember, you white ladies have it much easier than lots of other folks.”

“I will,” Leia promised.  

He shrugged and clinked glasses with her. Han broke in and Leia was silent for the rest of the conversation, thinking.

They didn’t stay much longer, Chewie was apparently growing exhausted. They dropped him at his boarding house and then Han drove Leia home.

“I like him,” Leia said slowly.

“Good. He’s a good man,” Han said.

“He makes me think,” she said.

“That’s a favorite activity of yours.”

“Stay,” she said again. “I don’t want to think any more tonight.”

It didn’t take much convincing.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Their last few days of “playing house” sped by. The illusion of normalcy, reading the paper, cooking simple meals, going out dancing and drinking in the evening, protected them from the outside world and outside concerns. They didn’t discuss her father, or what would happen to them when he came home.

It was the last night of dancing for awhile, and they both knew it. Thora had come home the day before and was getting the house ready for Anakin Skywalker’s return tomorrow night. Leia had promised to help. What’s more, she knew better than to be anywhere but home when he returned.  

Han dropped her off in the early hours of the morning.  She sat there a moment, her hands twisting in her lap.  

“I take it that I shouldn’t ask if I can call on you?”

She shook her head. “You can contact me through Winter. Or,” she stuttered a moment. “Or Luke. He’s discreet.” Her heart was in her throat, she didn’t seem to be able to swallow properly.

“Your brother?”

She nodded. “He loves me, he looks out for me.”  She had briefly outlined her homelife, sparing him details. If he had noticed an odd scar here or there on her skin, he hadn’t asked.

Han found her hand and squeezed it. “Leia, I’m in love with you. And I want to look out for you.”

For a moment, her heart seemed to settle back in her chest, warm and bright and full of courage. She smiled again, brighter than before. “I, I think I love you too.”

“Think?” he teased.

“Well I’ve never been in love before!”

He kissed her forehead. “Okay, princess. Will I see you Saturday night?”

She shrugged. “I’ll try.”

Han gave her a crooked grin that made her stomach flutter. “Good enough for me.”

The next day was spent preparing for Anakin’s return. She helped Thora clean and cook; Thora was worried about Han, whom she met briefly before they had gone dancing last night. ( _If your father knew, if he ever found out, oh mistress Leia, such trouble you have invited in_.) Leia wanted to tell her not to worry, that she had washed her sheets, but she didn’t want the poor dear to have a heart attack.

Leia put on her best dress and disguised her haircut with an elaborate wig she had found in her mother’s closet. They had the exact same shade of brown hair. She dutifully greeted her father at the door. He seemed to be in a bad temper, and she was glad the Luke was coming by later.  

If father recognized the hairstyle, he didn’t say anything. The pins dug into her skull and she missed the freedom of her bob. His curt greeting and quick demand of dinner made her miss the gentleness of Han’s stay. They had cooked their own meals, and after, she would wash and he would dry. She held the memory of their goodbye in her heart as Thora brought their dinner out.

She smiled as she remembered, “ _Leia, I’m in love with you._ ”

It was ill-timed. He had been talking to Luke about troubles with his luggage on his journey, about certain insinuations he had borne.  

“What are you smirking about, young lady?” he demanded.  

Luke went a little pale, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts were straying.  

“Nothing, father,” she said, sobering the look on her face. “Only, if your trunk doesn’t make its way back to you, and it’s sure to, perhaps Luke and I might have an idea for your next birthday present.”

His eyes bored into her. She returned his gaze mildly.  

“Still, that’s no reason to smile.” His gravely voice sounded so serious.  

Only her father could be angry at the smile of his daughter, at her idea for a present.  

“It’s just that you’re so difficult to shop for,” Luke soothed. “What do you get the man who has _everything_?”  

Anakin grunted at the flattery and turned back to the roast beef on the table.  

Leia tried not to show any more emotion throughout dinner and excused herself soon after, leaving Luke and father to their cigars in his office.  

She closed her bedroom door and then leaned her back against it. Leia’s heart was beating rapidly and she had never felt so miserable. How could “ _Leia, I’m in love with you_ ” be turned into a weapon? But then, Anakin might have once been capable of love, or feigning it, to capture her mother. He had turned love into a weapon then. Perhaps Leia had more in common with her mother than her hair color and suffrage activities.

She pushed herself away from the door and readied herself for bed.  

 

* * *

 

Leia dared to sneak out that Saturday, like she had loosely promised Han she would. Father had told her not to expect him home that night, that he might not even be home for breakfast. Leia was sure to sneak in before him. It was dangerous, reckless even, but Han made her feel reckless.  

He took her back to Cloud City and they danced and danced. The jazz music seemed to resonate in her bones, in her heart.

It pushed everything out so well, in fact, that at first, she didn’t hear the police whistles, the sirens, the _raid._

Luke had told her that as long as Cloud City didn’t become her haunt as the seedier Cantina had, she could be reasonably safe from raids.

Evidently, Luke did not know everything.  

She and Han ran, but the late March weather was untrustworthy. The puddles on the sidewalks had iced over and Leia slipped out of Han’s hand in the rush and screaming of the crowd. She slid on the ice, her dancing slippers were no match for it. A firm, gloved hand closed over her wrist and she swore. Han hadn’t been wearing gloves. A cop dragged her to the Paddy Wagon and cried “another one!” his voice full of pride.  

“My name is Summer Organa,” Leia repeated in her head. Practicing for her sentencing. She wasn’t sure why she was bothering, though, father was sure to notice she wasn’t there when he arrived home. Fuck, fuck, it was all fucked, and where the hell was Han?

Her face pressed up against the glass as the wagon drove her away, her eyes passed through the crowds, looking for his white shirt, his handsome face. Perhaps the way she was going, this was inevitable. But she wished she had kissed him goodbye.

The other women in the wagon were weeping, some were trying to hide flasks anywhere they could, under benches or in the corner. Leia sat heavily on a wooden seat and waited for her fate.

She didn’t have to wait too long, soon she was being crowded into a cell and the women were led out one by one for questioning. Leia didn’t have any identification on her, and she could only hope that they would let her phone Bail. And that no one recognized her.

The short hair must have disguised her, she thought, as Summer Organa was handed a ticket with a hefty fine for violation of the Volstead Act. She was told that she was lucky that she wasn’t charged with solicitation. She had recognized a few men by sight, Officers Tarkin, Veers, Needa. Apparently they only saw the short hair and decided they didn’t need to look any closer. They didn’t spend that much time at Anakin Skywalker’s home, he certainly didn’t have any recent pictures at his desk.  

“Report to the Federal Courts on April twenty third,” they said, pushing her through processing.  

She caught a streetcar home.

Quietly as she could, she crept in through the back door, up the stairs in stocking feet. Deep down she had known that it was no use. Father stood outside her door, waiting, watching her approach. He was still in the clothes he had worn last night.

She squared her shoulders.  

“Where have you been?” His gravely voice had never registered at a pitch so low. Leia briefly thought of childhood days pounding on piano keys in the music room, matching the sounds of the keys to voices they knew. This anger would have been the lowest note, the eighty-eighth key.

Leia said nothing.

He seemed to leap forward, grabbing her short short hair and dragged her to her room, spewing a stream of curses and accusations, “ _short-haired slut, spy, shame upon your family and my name_ ,” it went on and on. “ _You stole those plans from me, I am facing a lawsuit, but that is nothing of the pain you will now face_ ,” But Leia had long ago learned to shut down when he spoke to her like this.  

The ticket and court summons fluttered to the floor and he _raged_. Even in her disengaged state, Leia recoiled from the vile words and blows he rained down on her, and after it was over, she laid on the floor of her bedroom, gasping. The pearls from the necklace he broke seemed an added layer of torture underneath her body. Everything felt on fire.   

The door snapped shut behind her as her father bellowed to Thora, demanding she make sure her mistress didn’t die.  

Leia finally cried as Thora and Arvid gently placed her battered and bruised body on her bed. Thora took off her now ripped and bloody dancing dress and gave her a sponge-bath. Thora was so focused, she didn’t even have time to worry.  

“Two fractured ribs,” Thora said. “There’s nothing I can do for them, they’ll just have to heal. But I’ve wrapped your ankle, mistress.” She wiped Leia’s tears. “I’ll bring you a few aspirins, and perhaps you’ll be able to get some rest.”

“No, no aspirin,” said Anakin, returning to the door.

Leia said nothing. Thora was dismissed.  

“You are not to leave the house again. You are to be ill. You will never again damage the reputation of this family. When your hair grows to a respectable length again, I shall decide what to do with you. There will be a lock on the door. Woe betide you if you try and escape.”

“Luke,” Leia whispered. It was the first word she had spoken in hours, in what felt like days.

“I shall deal with him. Your brother has coddled you for too long.”

He snapped her bedroom door shut. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she was jolted by pounding as her father (or more likely, someone he hired) fixed a bolt on the outside of her door.

He was as bad as his word. The only other face she saw was Thora’s drawn and anxious one. Father had taken to randomly checking on her, as if to make sure she hadn’t escaped. But Leia could hardly move on her own, let alone execute a daring escape plan. She hadn’t even been able to think of a plan.

He watched nearly every interaction between Leia and Thora, though the latter had managed to slip Leia doses of aspirin while helping her mistress in the bathroom.

“Is she improving?” Father growled once.

Thora trembled and nodded. “Yes, but she is still... very ill.”

Three days later, after watching Thora leave her bedroom, he threw a newspaper in the direction of Leia’s bed. It landed near her feet, startling her.

“There, something to read if you get bored.” There was a sneer in his voice.

Her heart felt heavy, too heavy. She didn’t want to look, knowing that if Anakin let her have it, that it did not bring good news.  

She didn’t know how long she waited to look, only knowing that not reading it couldn’t make whatever it was unhappen. Slowly she sat up and dragged herself to her knees, breathing as shallowly as she could, so as not to move her fractured ribs. Leia was lightheaded as she began flipping through the _Pioneer_.  

On the second page, she saw the story her father must have been returning. _Local Lawyer Blown Up_ the headline read. With a heavy heart, she read the tribute. _On his Sunday drive with his wife Breha and daughter Winnifred, local lawyer and former St. Paul mayoral candidate Bail Organa suffered a mysterious automobile explosion. There were no survivors. There are no leads, and St. Paul police are remaining tight-lipped. Though it cannot yet be traced by this paper to the O’Connor criminals that have found sanctuary in St. Paul, it is the latest in a line of terrible crimes our citizens have suffered. This paper appeals to the decency of our elected mayor, Anakin Skywalker, to demand a thorough investigation. St. Paul has been a citadel of crime for long enough. This city cannot continue to be a safe haven for crooks, professional gamblers, gun men and breakers of law._

Leia dropped the paper and laid back down, hurting worse than ever, worse than she could have ever thought possible. She had no hope that her father would demand an investigation. He had traced the Organa name and killed them, to punish her. Her favorite family in all the world were gone. Good and kind people who helped others, who had helped her, were no more. Leia wondered detachedly when she would run out of tears to cry.

When she woke up, the paper was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Han Solo was doing something very stupid, very reckless. And very desperate.

It was very clear to him that Leia needed saving, and he couldn’t go through Winter. She had just lost both her parents, the papers had cruelly reported her dead as well. No, Winter had moved into Maz’s room in her boarding house while the two plotted escape from St. Paul for just after Bail and Breha’s funeral. But Leia said she could be reached through her brother, and while Han didn’t exactly trust prohis (in his line of business it was best to avoid them, if possible), Leia did.

Pulling down his hat as far as it would go, he rushed into the Federal Building through the north doors (avoiding the post office where his face might be on the wall). He hurried to the elevator and made his way up to the fourth floor, careful not to make eye contact with anyone.

He’d left Chewie with the _Falcon_. Being the tall, striking man he was, Chewie was more recognizable than he was. Besides, it wasn’t because of Chewie that they were in this mess, it was his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find the prohibition office and he barged right in without knocking. There were two men in there, an older fellow with graying hair, and a younger man with gold hair and blue eyes.

“Luke Skywalker,” Han said, throwing the newspaper he was carrying down on his desk. He looked nothing like his twin, really, but they both seemed to have the same brightness to their eyes, even if they were different in color.

“Han Solo?” Luke was bewildered.

In the corner, the old man leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking pensive.

“I haven’t heard from your sister since the raid on the Cloud City.”

Yesterday’s headline, _Local Lawyer Blown Up_ stared him in the face. Luke paled and scanned the story.  “She’s ill,” he sputtered. “My father says she’s ill. The mumps, contagious-”  

“Is the story true?” the old man asked. He had stood up and was reading the story over Luke’s shoulder.

“Bail and Breha are dead,” Han said shortly. “Winter, that is, Winnifred is alive. She’s leaving town after the funeral tomorrow.”  He looked up. “Who are you?”

“Ben Kenobi,” he said. “And you’re concerned about Leia?”

“Very.”

“Hmmm.”

Luke was still reading and rereading the story, all the gruesome details.  

“Luke,” Ben said gently. “The time has come for you to make a decision.”  

Han didn’t know what was happening. Decisions? Now was the time for action. Han knew something bad, something terrible had happened. He had never met a woman so afraid of her own father. And if he was as bad as she wouldn’t say, well. A lot could happen in five days, and Han hadn’t slept since he had lost her in the rush of that raid. He kept dreaming of her hand slipping out of his, of being frozen and not being able to help her, lately of the explosion that killed Winter’s parents. He didn’t know what it all meant, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Luke took a shaky breath and said, “We have to rescue her.”  

Ben clapped his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Very good, Luke. Now we must plan.”  

 

* * *

 

Spring had finally arrived, and if she had been able to Leia would have thrown open her windows to welcome it properly. But of course, Anakin had nailed her windows shut. As if Leia could have scaled the walls of her prison.  

Leia knew her fate now. She refused to think of him as father ever since he had announced there was a place for her at St. Palpatine’s Institute for Hysterical Women.

The aspirin had helped though, and she was healing fast. Her hair would take a bit longer to grow out into a “respectable” length, and she was furiously trying to plot an escape. But only Anakin had the key to her room, he didn’t trust it with Arvid or Thora. It would be easy to break a window, but how to scale down the sheer drop? There wasn’t even a trellis up to her second floor room. Smuggling in a rope would be out of the question.   

Even if she did escape, where would she go?

Her mind went round and round in circles, hopeless loops of desperation. She dreaded this, too. Because there was no solution she could think of.  

The house was watched, Thora had told her. She had been followed to the market. Leia couldn’t ask her to give the cronies the slip to try and reach Han Solo. Luke didn’t know the truth. He had sent flowers, Leia heard the delivery. But they never made their way to her room. Anakin was cruel. She felt desperate without her twin. They had never gone so long without seeing each other, talking to each other.  

She hoped Luke would figure it out before she was shipped off. Or maybe she could convince the doctor not to commit her, though she wouldn’t be able to buy him off like Anakin was sure to.

Leia could pace a little now. And she had a deck of cards hidden in an old hatbox. Solitaire games got really dull after the first day, though. She wished for paper, pen, ink. Or a book. Even one of Thora’s ridiculous ten cent novels would be welcome right now. Leia spent a few hours trying to think of silly titles and plots to match them. _Lady Mothma and Her Secret Romance_ , or maybe _Admiral Ackbar and the Tender Trap_.

Or her own story, _The Pirate and the Princess in the Tower_. That one would be sure to make Thora cry.  

She used to play this game with Winter, thinking up silly titles and plots to match. They had lazy plans to write and publish them someday, but they had never written one word. Dreaming up the characters and plots had been more fun than the work of writing them down.

It hurt to think of Winter directly. It was like looking at the sun. It was much easier to look at the shadows that were cast by it, to study the effect Winter had on Leia’s life. Even that hurt, and the pain of it would catch her off guard. Leia felt the loss of her other parents keenly. It was hard to think that Breha had been so kind, such a role model. Bail had taught her so faithfully, training her to be a lawyer. All for naught. She was to be locked away, and soon.   

Leia wouldn’t even be able to attend the funeral, if it hadn’t already happened.  

She sighed and paced and grieved.

 

* * *

 

Leia woke suddenly, there was shouting and threats and her nerves were frazzled.  

But who was shouting? She crept to the heat register, a heavy, lacy iron thing that spat out warm air in the winter. Kneeling gently, she listed. Typically she heard Anakin’s roar, followed by... Luke?

Her heart leapt to her throat.  

But that wasn’t all. Because then there was Han’s voice.  

“She has disgraced this family! She’ll go the same way as her mother!”

“You said she was ill!” Luke shouted back.

“Her mind is sick!” Anakin yelled.

“I don’t think so,” Han said cockily.

“I’m afraid, young man, that you don’t know my daughter as I do.” Anakin’s voice was a low growl.  

“Yeah well,” Han said, and she could almost hear him leaning against the wall. “Still gonna need a doctor to agree with you before you can send her away. And she’s smarter than you. But it won’t come to that. She’ll be leaving with us tonight.”

Leia stood up and got dressed. She didn’t care about the rest of the conversation. Han and Luke would kick down the door if they had to. And she would be ready. She pulled on a pair of trousers father didn’t know about, and a blouse. In case they literally had to run.

She pulled out a bag and began packing a few things. Clothes, a few photos she had of Luke, Thora, Arvid, her mother, the Organas... none of Anakin. A few of her favorite baubles went in there as well, and her favorite lipstick.

Looking around her room, there was nothing else she wanted to save. She turned her back and began pounding on the door, screaming her head off to Han and Luke to let her out. A few seconds passed and there was a sudden gunshot and a shout. Her hand stilled on the door.

Wild images flew through her mind, her heart was beating so fast, and then there were footsteps and a scrabbling as a key was fitted into the outside lock. The door swung open and Han stood there smiling.  

“Who’s dead?” Leia’s heart was in her throat. “Anakin?”

“No one’s dead downstairs, sweetheart,” he said quietly. His eyes swept over her, accessing visible damage, wild eyes, fading bruises. “You brother shot a hole in the library ceiling though. Your father handed over the key.”

“Don’t call him that,” Leia said sharply.

“Okay,” Han agreed.

She stepped into his arms and allowed herself to tremble a moment. His powerful arms wrapped around her and she cautioned him “be gentle” before leaning up to kiss him.  

“Do you have everything you need?”

She nodded, stars in her eyes, color in her cheeks. “Just one thing more, though.”

He followed her into Padme’s bedroom, and she rummaged on her vanity for the diaphragm case. Leia slipped it in her pocket and took one last look at her mother’s room. _I’m getting out, Mother. I wish I could have saved you, too_. She took a deep breath, trying to remember the exact scent of violets and dust. “Okay,” she said, taking Han’s arm.

“Let’s go,” he said.

They made their way downstairs for the last time. There was nothing Leia wanted to look at, and Han hurried her past the library and outside to the _Falcon_.  

“Luke,” Leia started.

“Don’t worry,” said Han. “He’s meeting us at the airfield,” he said, stepping on the gas pedal and roaring her away from the prison that she had lived in for her whole life. Leia rolled down the window and let the spring air wash over her. Though it was night, it was as if Han had brought her back to life again after a long winter.  

After awhile, they did indeed pull into an airfield.

“Where are we?” Leia asked. She knew they were somewhere near the State Fairgrounds, but she had never spent much time here.

“Curtiss Northwest Airport,” Han said, helping her out of the _Falcon_. “Didn’t I tell you what I did in the Great War?”

“You were a flying ace?” she asked wonderingly.  

“I don’t know about ace... c’mon. Chewie’s waiting for us.”

“Where are we going? And what about the _Falcon_?” she asked.

“You and I are flying to Canada. Chewie’s gonna drive the _Falcon_ up with your luggage. If you need something, put it in your pocket. Now let’s go, there’s some people here who want to say goodbye....” He led her out to his little plane.  

“It’s my Bristol F.2, a British plane, flew her during the war and brought her home after,” he said proudly. “The English were selling off planes cheap after the war, and I bought her outright.”

Leia surveyed at the scrappy plane as they approached. “She certainly looks like she’s been in the wars.”

He mistook her teasing as awe. “Yup, I’ve taken her apart and put her back together a fair few times.”

Leia smiled. “Ever name her?”  

“Usually I just call her the Ray of Sunshine,” Han said proudly.  “Anyway, Chewie should have her ready for us.”

He did, and he too gave Leia a very gentle hug.  

“Is she ready?” Han asked, going through preflight checks.

“Да. Что дурак,” Chewie said lightly

“I know, I know,” Han said, waving him off.

“What?” Leia asked.

“He says I’m a fool, but he says that every time I take her up. He doesn’t like flying.”

“Oh.” She had never flown before, Leia didn’t know if she liked flying either.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Leia. I’m a good pilot and I’ve flown plenty at night. The only thing for you to do is enjoy the view.”

“I trust you,” she said.  

She heard someone shout her name and turned around.

“W-Winter?”

“Oh shit,” Han said, “I forgot to say-”

“You’re alive?” Leia and Winter fell into each other’s arms, crying and talking at once.

“I’m alive,” she confirmed.

“Does that mean - your parents?"

But Winter shook her head. Leia kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re leaving town too,” Winter said. “Chewie said he’d give us a ride to Canada, we’ll see each other there, soon.”

“We?”

“Maz wants to take me to Paris,” Winter said, a little light coming to her eyes.

“That sounds like heaven,” Leia agreed.

Luke arrived next, with Thora and Arvid.  There were tears and more kisses, and a blessing from Thora.

“What will you do?” Leia asked them.

“I don’t know child, but I think I have Arvid convinced we should go to California. It’s so much warmer there, you know. I’m tired of my joints freezing every winter.”

“That sounds good, Thora.”

And then it was time to say goodbye to Luke.

Everyone left them alone for a minute.  Luke gently kissed her forehead.

“Thank you,” Leia said. “You gave me back my life.”

“I hope you’ll take care of it,” Luke said with a grin.

“And you,” Leia said. “You be careful, too. I’ll drop you postcards at your apartment. I expect you to write me back.”

He nodded, solemn, then pulled her into the tightest embrace she could stand. “Follow your star, Leia.”

“You too, Luke.”

Han came back and bundled her into a giant pair of coveralls, a sweatshirt, and Chewie’s leather jacket. She felt like a brown marshmallow.  “Sorry,” Han said. “Best I could do. But I can’t have you freezing up there.”

She laughed, and Chewie pushed her up into the front seat. And the people that she loved moved to the edge of the runway. A thrill went through her as she waved to them, blowing kisses.  

They taxied down the runway and after a few moments of abject terror on Leia’s part, Han pushed her into the cold bright stars.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you thank you to Zephyr42 and ladyarcherfan3 for fearlessly beta-ing this ill advised mess. They really went above and beyond the call of duty. Any mistakes remain my own.
> 
> Oh, and there's a playlist: http://8tracks.com/glorious-clio/stardust-speakeasy
> 
> [shameless appeal for review] *bats eyelashes* *pours you a drink* come here often? [/shameless appeal for review]
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left a review, I am very grateful.


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